


Dangerous Dances

by completelyhopeless



Series: Queen and Hawkheart [22]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Comment Fic, Community: comment_fic, F/M, Gen, Sparring, that weird messed up relationship between the queen and lord hawkeye again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-26
Updated: 2015-01-26
Packaged: 2018-03-09 02:40:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3233174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/completelyhopeless/pseuds/completelyhopeless
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The queen and Lord Hawkeye spar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dangerous Dances

**Author's Note:**

  * For [storiesfortravellers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/storiesfortravellers/gifts).



> For the prompt: _[Any, any, historical AU with a duel](http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/571977.html?thread=80030281#t80030281)_
> 
> Okay, so it's sparring and not quite a duel, but it got this written, which is good, right?

* * *

They need hold no parties in this kingdom, no balls or masquerades.

They need not have music.

They needed none of that to dance, but oh, the danger of that dance.

* * *

They had an audience, and she was aware of it, but in a distant sense, as though it could not matter that everyone in the court had come to watch. She knew it did. She risked exposing what she was by her behavior, by asking him for this favor. Proving herself at least a match to Lord Hawkeye in swordplay was dangerous. She would show the people she was capable of great violence, could show them what had happened the night the king died.

She did not care.

She had not truly felt alive since that night. A few moments had warmed her in the interim, most of them part of this strange game that she and Lord Hawkeye continued to play, but this was what she lived for, had been raised and trained for, and this was what made her feel like herself for the first time since becoming queen.

She met his blade, smiling as the metals clanged against each other. “I think you are improving, my lord.”

“How you tease, my queen,” he said, smiling as he pushed her back and separated their weapons. “I have not earned such high praise from you.”

She laughed. Sometimes that man played at being a fool, but she knew he was not. He was far more intelligent than he let others see, and he was more dangerous than any fool, even an accident prone one.

She ducked under his sword, catching her skirts and rolling around behind him to kick him in the back. “I suppose you have not at that.”

He rose, glaring at her. “Do not think you have won. We are far from finished.”

She smiled. “Is that so?”

“A small victory is hardly the war,” he reminded her, pointing his blade at her throat. She felt her skirt catch and heard the fabric rip as she tried to move, and he caught her around the waist, moving the blade up against her skin. “We both know that well.”

She elbowed him, ducking out of his grasp and tearing her skirt free. “Overconfidence is not one of my weaknesses.”

“You admit you have weaknesses? How unlike you,” Hawkeye said, reaching down to grab the dagger he had used to pin her in place. “And yet I think you would use those weaknesses as leverage if you could, and that seems to be no weakness at all.”

“Weakness is death. If you cannot use or compensate for such weakness, you will die.”

“You sound like my father,” Hawkeye said, eyes dark. “I hope you do not actually _believe_ those words, for they are what he used to justify his abuses.”

“Against the kingdom—or against you?”

The question made him angry, and he attacked with that anger, losing some focus and precision as he did. She had only heard rumors of the king before her dead husband, but she had used them, perhaps too effectively. The king had hurt his son _and_ his kingdom.

She countered his attack, parried and dodged, hearing the crowd murmuring around them. They must disapprove, though of her or him she could not be certain. He was attacking a woman in a way that could end in her death, but she had turned his past against him and used it as a secondary weapon in their fight. Both of them were wrong.

“In the future, should we ever do this again, I would advise you not to mention my father to me,” he said, catching his sword against hers and getting into her face. “Ever.”

“He makes you angry. The anger is a weakness. Were I not to exploit such a weakness, I would be a fool,” she said, pushing him away. “And I am not a fool.”

He moved behind her, his arm going around her neck when she mistook his intentions, and as he came close to cutting off her air, he spoke into her ear. “When you remind me of my father, you remind me that I share his blood. My brother's blood. That same evil is within me, and it is not my anger you should fear—but my ruthlessness.”

She almost stabbed him in the leg, but he let her go first.

“We are done for today. Thank you for the exercise, my queen.”

He bowed stiffly to her before striding away. She watched him go, assessing what she had learned during their encounter, before turning to leave in the other direction.


End file.
